Intertwined
by Felinephoenix
Summary: Ginny's been having nightmares, and she ponders. Brother and sister fluff, strongly implied Ginny/Tom.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This isn't exactly a Ginny/Tom fic, but it's certainly implied. How did it occur? Well, I saw the couple on a list and was reading CoS at midnight, so...joy. This can be taken as a romance or just plain character bonding...or speculation, I'm not sure.

Ginny is thirteen in this fic. I got the idea for her hair from a beautiful fanart picture. Okay, think that's it! Enjoy!

Ginny Weasely ran her fingers through her short red hair, and sighed in exasperation. "Ron, _come on._"

The youngest Weasely boy shook his head. "No way, Gin." Ron said stubbornly, letting himself into his little sister's room. Ginny groaned and threw herself down on her bed. Didn't her brothers ever understand the meaning of the word privacy? She didn't think so.

"Ron, I can go back to sleep. I don't need you hounding over me!" Ginny protested. Ron shook his head.

"If you'd rather mum barge in here and worry about you all night..." Ron said, baiting his little sis.

"But _you're_ barging in, and _you'll_ be worrying about me all night!" Ginny shouted. Ron sighed. "Okay. You're right."

Ginny almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then her brother went on. 

"It's just that this is third time this week, Gin. I know it's not as bad as it used to be, but still...you're my little sis..." Ginny hated to admit it, but Ron _was_ being _awfully_ sweet. "Okay, if it'll make you feel better, I'll let you stay here."

Ron smiled, and plunked himself down on the floor. Ginny shook her and climber back into bed, used to Ron being in there by now. It was irritating, but he was such a sweet doofus. A long moment of blessed quiet passed before Ron softly whispered "Wanna talk about it?"

Ginny froze up. "Not really." She thought she heard Ron sigh, and then felt really guilty. He was just looking out for her, wasn't he? "It's just the same old stuff. Strangling roosters and being brought down there..." Ginny whispered. She knew that Ron was by now paying rapt attention, so she went on. 

"It's not so bad. I mean, I don't scream anymore." Ginny said, putting on a fake smile. Ron nodded.

"Yeah. Well..." Ron faltered, and Ginny saw her big brother turn as red as his flaming hair. "Night, Gin."

"Night." Ginny said, throwing down Ron a blanket, knowing full well he'd be here all night. Not long after, Ron's snoring filled her room. Ginny groaned and covered her ears with her pillow to shut it out. And maybe shut out the thoughts nagging about in her head. Thoughts about exactly what had happened to her in the Chamber.

She was _so_ stupid. She should have stopped writing in that diary the moment it started writing back. Like Dad said, never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain. But she didn't listen at all, she just kept writing back to Tom. He'd been so nice to her, he actually listened to her. Not like Ron or George and Fred. Not even any of the other girls at school. They all just felt sorry for her because she liked Harry Potter, and he wouldn't see anything in her other than his best friend's little sis. Her only good friend was Hermione, but Hermione was a year older than she was and she didn't have any classes with her and barely got to see her at all. Tom had listened, though.

Two years later, Ginny could barely believe it. Somebody who had been so nice and kind just...used her. Horrendously used her. In reality, Voldemort owed Ginny his life...perhaps even more than he did Harry. Perhaps he did, but Ginny didn't like thinking about it. She'd lied to Ron, and it made her sick to her stomach. Long ago she'd stopped having nightmares about the experience in the Chamber. No more nightmares about her best friend forcing her down into that godforsaken place to die, and try to get Harry while he was at it. 

No, these night terrors were fresh. They were about a new concern entirely. Dumbledore said that Tom...no, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she might as well face facts, had put some of his soul into her. How much?

Enough that she could speak basic Parseltongue, for starters. Enough so that at times her own eyes turned red and she found herself thinking murderous thoughts. Rarely, but it happened.

Ginny shuddered and hugged the blanket closer to her shivering body. The way Tom had made the basilisk keep her warm, at first. That still perplexed Ginny, no matter how much she thought it through. Why would he do that?

A brand new thought entered the Weasely Girl's head. Tom had put some of his own soul into her, hadn't he? Maybe some her soul was inside The Dark Lord, formerly known as Tom Riddle. That was the strangest thing.

Strange yet true -- inside Ginny Weasely were fragments of the Dark Lord, and inside the Dark Lord? Fragments of an innocent eleven-year-old girl. Even if neither of them wanted to face it, they were intertwined.

Ginny Weasely and Tom Riddle were bizarrely intertwined.

Like it? Hate it? Want a sequel? Tell me, please!


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